


Ticket Stubs and Diaries

by apropensityforcharm



Series: Season 6 Reaction Fics [10]
Category: Glee
Genre: 6x10 reaction, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apropensityforcharm/pseuds/apropensityforcharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This isn't eight months ago. This time they're trying."<br/>6x10 reaction. In which Kurt and Blaine survive their first married fight, and they totally rock at this whole married thing. Canon compliant; Klaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ticket Stubs and Diaries

‘I’m just saying,’ Kurt says as he splits a capsicum in half on the cutting board. ‘If the Warblers are going to be part of the New Directions then they should probably, you know, be part of the New Directions.’

Blaine expels a breath through his nose. It’s not that Kurt is wrong; he’s just not getting  _the point._  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I get that. And so do my boys. It’s just – we’re sort of still in mourning. Wearing those blazers is like wearing black at a funeral.’

Kurt begins cutting the capsicum into neat squares and transferring them into a bowl. ‘I get that,’ he says evenly. ‘But the fact remains that we cannot be a team if half of us are refusing to acknowledge that the team even exists.’

‘It’s not just the Warblers,’ Blaine huffs. ‘Mind having a word with Kitty and Jane about how they treat my boys?’

‘Your Warblers are refusing to acknowledge that things have to change if they want to be a part of our team!’ Kurt replies hotly.

‘But they’re not there out of choice!’ Blaine says. ‘We’re being forced to give up our identity with absolutely no say in the matter!’

‘Don’t yell at me, Blaine,’ Kurt bristles. ‘ _I’m_ not the one who burnt down your school.’

Blaine opens his mouth to snap back (‘You could at least show a little  _compassion – ‘_ ) and stops.

There’s a strange tension then, a strain in which Blaine knows that both of them are thinking about New York, when they’d been at each other’s throats more often than not. It’s quite unsettling to be faced so suddenly with how easily they could fall back into the same patterns – sniping for the sake of sniping and nothing of substance said at all.

Eight months ago, Blaine probably would have accused Kurt of being heartless and selfish, and Kurt would have fired back that his emotions were getting in the way of reason, and could he please just use logic for once in his life? Blaine would have gone to bed so  _lonely_ even with Kurt right beside him, and he would have wondered if Kurt even cared about his needs at all. It would have been a long night of sharp words and accusations, followed by yet another day of prickly nerves, hidden underneath the barest veneer of overly polite smiles.

Almost unconsciously, Blaine’s hand curls in to touch the band on his fourth finger. This isn’t eight months ago. This time they’re trying.

‘It’s just,’ he begins, quieter now. ‘Those uniforms – they’re the only things left.’

He doesn’t know quite how to explain it, exactly. Those blazers – they represent so much. Blaine knows that he wasn’t the only kid who needed Dalton for all the protection and acceptance that it offered. He knows that his Warblers are a family just as much as the New Directions, and their home has been snatched away from them by the callous glee of chance. He doesn’t – can’t – blame them for banding together, thrust violently into an environment they have no familiarity or affection for. He can’t blame them for pushing back. He can’t blame them, not when he feels like his own foundations have been shaken and smashed at the roots. That place was a bedrock of stability, a promise of trust and security, and now it’s just... gone.

And those uniforms are the only things that are  _left._ The only thing left of a place that had meant safety, and belonging, and  _home._

How can he blame his boys for not wanting to let that go?

Kurt has stopped cutting vegetables now. He steps around the kitchen bench and lowers himself onto the arm of the couch beside Blaine with his hands jammed between his thighs. He doesn’t say anything, actually seems very open to let Blaine keep talking, which is – well, it’s certainly an improvement from the poisoned barbs he used to spit whenever he felt wrong footed.

Blaine tries to keep his voice as level and calm as possible. ‘I just feel like we’re being asked to – to  _assimilate,_ and we’ve been given no choice in the matter,’ he explains.

Kurt tilts his head. ‘I know,’ he says slowly. ‘I just don’t know what you want us to do about it. It’s kind of an awful situation no matter how you look at it.’

‘I’m not asking that we turn the New Directions into the Warblers,’ Blaine says, and tries to ignore the lump filling his throat. ‘I just don’t want to turn the Warblers into the New Directions. They’re all that’s left of Dalton. They’re a legacy.’

His voice threatens to crack on the last word and Kurt shifts closer to him on the couch and rests a hand at the nape of his neck, where his fingers can play with the baby-fine curls that have escaped the gel. ‘Dalton’s not  _gone,_ Blaine,’ he whispers. ‘The students are still here. The administration is already organising to start rebuilding as soon as it’s safe. This time next year the school will be back and everything that makes it good will still  _be there._ ’ His fingers stroke a rhythm into Blaine’s hair. ‘I promise.’

It’s not as simple as that, and they both know it. Kurt isn’t unaffected by Dalton’s demise. He was almost as shaky as Blaine when he’d heard the news. He’d cried too. Maybe he never ruffled his feathers in quite the same way that the other Warblers did, but Dalton was still a place to go when he was shoved out of his own nest by force of circumstance. Dalton was where he and Blaine fell in love. Dalton was where they got engaged. Dalton was where the  _met._ And now all that’s left is a charred iron banister where a spiral staircase used to stand.

They’ll rebuild the school, but the history preserved in the polished timber of those halls is gone.

‘It won’t be the same,’ he says. An ache in his chest, a constant press on his ribs that it won’t ever be the same, and it’s the memories that were lost in the fire most of all. ‘It just won’t be the same.’

Kurt’s hand starts a long, slow press down the length of his back, comforting circles of warmth that Blaine leans back into, grateful for the contact.

‘It’s okay,’ Kurt murmurs. ‘Change is okay, Blaine. A good thing, even.’

Which is correct in theory, Blaine knows. And maybe in a week or two, he’ll be able to detach himself enough to look at the situation with a clear head, free of the sentiment and the backlog of memories clogging his mind. Right now, though, the ache is too sour for him to see the bright spots of his situation, heavy like the beat of his heart, and he doesn’t care if it’s irrational – he just wants his school back.

Kurt’s hand pauses in its rounds on Blaine’s back suddenly before starting up again a little quicker. ‘So,‘ he begins, ‘we’re obviously not going to be able to get either of our choirs to bend all the way, but what do you think about getting  _both_ of them to change a little bit?’

Blaine sits up a little straighter. ‘Get them to compromise?’

‘Yeah, exactly. Instead of making either one of them abide by the other’s rules... we could just make a whole new set of rules altogether.’ He shrugs down at Blaine. ‘We don’t want the New Directions to become the Warblers, and you don’t want the opposite, so... we make them into something different, and they’ll be doing it together. As a team.’

Blaine tilts his head. ‘Well I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I can squeeze Jane into a Warbler uniform without getting stabbed, so it’s probably the only way we’re getting out of this alive.’

‘God knows what they’ll  _all_ agree to, though,’ Kurt sighs.

‘We’ll figure it out,’ Blaine promises him. His imagination has already been piqued by the idea of  _new –_ new choreography, new songs, new uniforms for the  _all_ of them – that he knows he’ll probably be up all night brainstorming it anyway. It’ll be a good distraction from the uneasy twist in his stomach that hasn’t disappeared since Monday, when they first heard the news.

Neither of them say anything after that, dropping into a comfortable silence while Kurt’s hand keeps an easy pressure on his back. Then Kurt asks, ‘Did we just survive our first married fight?’

‘We totally just survived our first married fight,’ Blaine agrees. Somehow, the thought of it makes him smile.

‘We rock at this whole married thing,’ Kurt declares and Blaine grins up at him. Then Kurt pokes Blaine. ‘Hey, you remember how there was only one bubbler that worked at Dalton, and no one would use it because of that weird kid who always put his mouth right on the tap? They’re totally going to build more bubblers now.’

Blaine can’t stop the smile. ‘Okay. So it’s not all bad.’

Kurt kisses the top of his head. ‘Yeah. It’s not all bad.’

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos and/or comments would be greatly appreciated. <3


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